


A Breach of Professional Boundaries

by SullustanGin



Series: Corellian Whiskey and Sullustan Gin [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Bowdaar is the best wingman, Canon-Typical Violence, Chaotic Good never dies, Comfort, Corellian Whiskey, Developing Relationship, During Canon, Eye Contact, F/M, Flirting, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Panic, Partnership, Port Nowhere, Slow Burn, Star Wars: The Old Republic - Forged Alliances, Theron's hair, Touching, Trust Issues, sullustan gin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:28:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23010208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SullustanGin/pseuds/SullustanGin
Summary: Smuggler Eva Corolastor and SIS Agent Theron Shan go on an unexpected mission to Port Nowhere to deal with a traitor.  Defining the exact parameters of their relationship becomes a challenge. This story takes place during the course of Forged Alliances, between the Korriban-Tython missions and Manaan.
Relationships: Theron Shan/Female Smuggler, Theron Shan/Smuggler
Series: Corellian Whiskey and Sullustan Gin [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1642009
Comments: 10
Kudos: 24





	1. Enjoy the Silence

Captain Eva Corolastor watched Alderaan spin beneath her as _Virtue’s Thief_ made its lazy rotation around the planet again. Risha was doing a favor for House Teraan, Corso was spending time with his cousin, Bowdaar was off climbing a tree or something, and Akaavi had gone to parts unknown the weekend past. Guss had managed to score an invitation to a new casino on Nar Shaddaa – he was actually testing things out before the public debut, and he couldn’t have been happier.

In short, Eva finally had her ship to herself for the first time in _ages_ , and she’d celebrated by having a cup of tea in absolute, beautiful silence, minus the hum of the engines. But she never considered the _Thief_ to be an intrusion – the ship was part of her as much as her heartbeat was. Eva had curled herself into the gunner’s compartment, with its view out into the galaxy or the planet below (depending on the day) nearly unobstructed. It was hard to get to, but worth it. She’d hidden here since she was much smaller and an easier fit. 

_Virtue’s Thief_ was doing much better now that the landing engine was speaking the same language as the rest of her parts. Eva leaned her head against the window. Right, needed to compile that list of dreams again. She found now that her desires for the ship were changing, especially now that the money was pouring in. Her account books in her quarters were fatter than the thinner volumes of her mother. She didn’t bring work to the gunner’s compartment, however. This was where little girls dreamed of tomorrow, imagined boys to kiss, and put some serious thought into what to buy for her ship next. 

Tomorrow was going to do what it wanted to, as were the men (who didn’t know what they were missing out on), so this time was best spent plotting the next upgrade. Eva reached into her inner jacket pocket and pulled out a dog-eared, well-loved notebook. She flipped to a certain page and unfolded a very, very old advertisement. 

It was for the original XS Light Freighter. This modded creature she rode around on had been the most basic of basic models – a seat, an engine, and an airlock, and that was about all it had come with, according to her mother. It was only later, when the money started to come in, that the gadgets and doohickeys started to be installed on an “as needed” basis, first by Athene, then by Hadrian when Athene became too busy, and then finally by Eva when Hadrian started getting too large for the gunner’s compartment.

Eva gently held the advertisement open – she couldn’t flatten it or else it might tear. Already, the colors had long faded from where it was folded, leaving white lines all over the image, but she could still see how pretty a fully-loaded original XS Light Freighter had been. Hadrian had dreamed of buying one; Athene had reminded him that the one that had was theirs, free and clear. 

Eva decided – as with most internal arguments she had with herself – that both sides had the answer. The next project was to de- retrofit _Virtue’s Thief_. Keep all the functionality, but track down the original parts, the proper counters, the real gauges. Essentially, Eva wanted to make it look like her father’s dream but do the work of her mother’s business. 

Now that she’d played “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours” in the most unsexy way possible with an SIS agent and got rewarded with mom issues in exchange for her prefix codes (bad deal, Eva), it was time to switch the game up, anyway. 

It’d been two months since the very strange events surrounding her last official Republic gig. There was a part of her that was actively wondering if Darok was Theron Shan’s wingman and only played the part of the baddie in an elaborate scheme to get her to call him first. Spies, theft, Jedi, Sith – and lots of credits to keep her hooked. Plus Shan was not hard on the eyes. At all. 

But it had been two months, no call, and now the rules were going to change. _Virtue’s Thief_ would always be there, but everything attached to the name was going to change. All of the modifications, all of the modern features – gone. The _Thief_ would become a ghost ship in the truest sense of the word. Eva started taking careful notes on the image. Some of this was going to be hard to find due to safety regulations, _but_ if there was a modernized, visually identical substitute, she might consider it if there was an option to make it untraceable. 

The tea was now a manageable temperature, so she brought the slightly steaming mug up to her lips, fogging up the gunner’s window. Eva Corolastor was a happy woman.

**

As Alderaan rotated into its night cycle, Eva realized she was getting older – the night vision wasn’t what it used to be, so best get up to the galley and work there instead. Notebook and empty mug in one hand, Eva slithered through the gunner access, then single-handedly climbed the ladder back up to the main deck of the ship. As she pulled herself up, she could see a dim green light flickering down the hallway toward the cockpit. Messages had come in her absence; Eva kept an emergency fob on her for highest priority messages, but if those didn’t manifest, she was unbothered by the flow of mail. 

Eva placed the mug in the sink and the notebook on the galley table before reaching over to the kitchen counter message unit. She couldn’t write a response, but she could sort the mail and read it, if necessary. 

Not hers. Not hers. Not hers. Not hers.

Hers.

Well then. Eva “hmm’ed” to herself in the silence of the galley as she opened up a message she thought would not exist. It had come a few hours ago, while she was reworking the entire ship in her notebook. She could read it now – it wouldn’t _seem_ desperate, even though she was devouring it the second she was aware of it. 

_From: Theron Shan_

_Subject: Update_

_Our mutual friend is keeping a low profile. Strategy meetings with other SpecForce officers and a lot of time on the terminal in his office. He’s made two intel requests to the SIS:_

_‘Isotope-5 Proliferation and Deployment in the Empire’ – so far, the Imps have mostly put their Isotope-5 toward manufacturing output and improved planetary power infrastructures. Pretty conservative stuff by Imp standards. The bombs used on Tython were some of the first hints we’ve seen of weaponization, so requesting this file makes sense._

Eva made a mental note to retrieve the Makeb logs and her accounting from that mission run – she had noticed some Imperial activity. The fact Makeb was still floating around 18 months later indicated that the “imminent catastrophic earthquake” was a load of bull, used by the Empire to obscure operations. 

Eh, she wasn’t too mad. Imps needed their stims and alcohol too. Run was due soon, once she confirmed the order.

_‘Known Smugglers: Inner Rim’ – just what it says, a list of cargo smugglers operating in the Inner Rim. Several thousand names. No clear connections to Tython or Korriban. Hard to say why he would want this info._

_He’s arranged ships for some travel in the next few weeks, so I’ll find a way to follow along. If I see anything interesting, I’ll have my astromech contact you._

If this was a wingman angle with an over-the-top epic plot, this was probably the worst execution Eva had ever seen. There was a strong urge for her to write, “Hey, dumbass. I’m a smuggler.” She shook her head in the lovely silence. 

But it did get her thinking. Was the requisition made because of her, or because of Darok’s future needs? Chronology and intent mattered. Unless she spoke to the man himself, answers would not be had easily. If it was because of her, then she had to do some investigating. 

Eva had cut her crew out of this wild plan to this point. Sure, some had some suspicions as to how that meeting went in the cantina (and she’d certainly misled a few of them). But if Darok was collecting intel to strike at her – and them -- --

Eva left the galley and went straight to her Captain’s quarters. She pulled up a fresh message. 

_Lest you forget, Voidhound here._ _Names, please._

Sent, done and dusted. 

Eva went back to galley to boil another pot of tea. After boiling and letting the tea steep for the prescribed 3 minutes, a chime came through. Eva confirmed that it was exactly what she expected: an empty email with the list attached. She’d deal with that later, when she filled in the crew.

Speaking of which, the holo terminal was singing to itself. Eva pulled the tea leaves and pulled herself a mug from the pot. Leaving the too-hot vessel behind, she hustled to the terminal. “Corolastor here. Oh hey, Bowie.” 

The Wookiee looked excessively pleased with himself. In Shyriiwook, they continued the conversation. Bowdaar teased Eva that she sounded like a baby when she spoke, but she countered that she at least sounded like a Wookiee; her Mando was god-awful, because she was still thinking over each letter as she pronounced it. Shyriiwook had a lot of room for creative interpretation, once key nouns and verbs were in place. “Captain, I have dinner. For the next two weeks.”

“You bagged a wild nerf down there?”

“Yes! I have split the animal with another hunter who was not so fortunate – he paid for the butchering in exchange for his half. We will feast!” Eva smiled as Bowdaar could barely contain his excitement: a kill and the opportunity to feed friends were two of Bowdaar’s favorite things.

“You could probably round up Risha and Corso while you’re down there. I’ll bring the ship down for pick up once I figure out ETA for our absent friends.”

Bowdaar grunted his approval, and they ended the conversation. Eva activated the holo comm signals for Akaavi and Guss. Akaavi picked up first, unsurprisingly. “Captain.”

“You have a slab of nerf with your name on it. What’s your ETA?” 

Akaavi blinked, then appeared to consult someone out of Eva’s line of vision. “I should be finishing my appointment here in short order.”

“Everything good with you?” Eva ran her eyes over the image of the Zabrak, trying to detect if anything was amiss or if Akaavi was just being discreet as usual. Out of all the crewmembers, she had been the hardest to open up, the friendship and trust most difficult to gain. Once Eva had gained her confidence, despite her dishonorable smuggler ways, the relationship ran deep as an ancient river through rocks.

“Attending to our mutual friends from last year. The children send greetings to you. They still call you _kandosii cabur_.” Aha, covert relocation complete.

Eva felt one side of her mouth pull upward in a half smile. “Glad to hear the rugrats are well. Does my young friend still have a limp?”

Akaavi let out a short laugh. “No, but he certainly does have the scar of a lesson learned. His mother thanks you for that. He’ll be _jatne verd_ yet.” 

Eva shifted her weight as she noticed Guss’s call come in. “I won’t hold you up any longer. Grab the next transport to Alderaan, and we’ll be here waiting. You recall that Republic mission that went far too well?”

Akaavi leaned her head to one side. “I take it there is forward motion?” 

“Possibly. We’ll speak when you return, along with Bowdaar. I’m not going to let anyone walk into this blind.” 

“Acknowledged. Thank you, Captain.”

Eva switched to Guss’s feed. “Guss Tuno, how is Fortuna treating you?” 

“Lousy. I’m on my way to Alderaan now.” He sounded completely disgruntled and looked as sour as a Mon Calamari could.

“Well, that answers my question. We’ll be waiting.” Guss terminated the signal, and Eva flinched on his behalf. That sounded like a man who lost all his fun money. 

Eva looked back toward the HoloNet inbox, and behold, the Imps on Makeb had confirmed their regular order, right on schedule.

The silence was over. Back to “Smug Life” as her crew jokingly referred to it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando translation:
> 
> kandosii cabur -- indomitable or ruthless guardian; 'kandosii' could also mean 'awesome' or 'badass' to a bunch of pre-teens.
> 
> jatne verd -- best or great warrior


	2. Sauce for the Goose, Sauce for the Gander

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eva discovers that there is a traitor at Port Nowhere that is trying to sell her out to the Republic. Agent Shan can identify the source, but there is a rather large complication...

“Bowdaar wants to know if you can get the piles of paperwork out of his galley. I still don’t understand why you don’t migrate everything to datapads.”

Eva looked up from the file folder she was examining to see Risha at the door to her quarters, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed. “Datapads can be hacked.”

Risha gave Eva’s quarters-cum-office a scowl. “This could catch fire at any second.”

“So can the open liquor in the hidden compartment, but no one complains about that,” Eva harrumphed and went back to her reading. Admittedly, she was sitting cross-legged on her desk because every other surface in her quarters was covered in paper, including the desk’s chair, the bed, the trunk at the end of her bed, her dressing table, her two bedside tables, the sill to the view port that looked out into the starry sky, as well as every inch of the floor minus a narrow pathway from her perch to where Risha stood. “I’m almost done. Running through Shan’s list of names and comparing to our roster.”

“We have that at Port Nowhere. You could just run a search remotely.”

“You and I both know not everyone I do business with is on the Port Nowhere list of fleet members. And at the moment, I have some concerns about accessing that databank.”

Risha carefully moved up the path toward Eva, trying not to kick anything out of order. “You really think the Pub and the Sith would come after you through the Voidfleet?” 

The edge of Eva’s mouth pulled downward as she flipped a page over. “I don’t know.”

Risha reached over and gently pried the folder out of Eva’s hands, whose hands remained posed in the same position for a moment. “Speak. You didn’t spill everything at dinner when we got back from Alderaan.” 

Eva folded her hands behind her head and leaned back against the wall. “In theory, these two characters – Darok and Arkous -- are bouncing around Jedi and Sith libraries, playing the intelligence agencies against each other. I come in as an outside contractor. Either I’m not important, just a paid stooge, or I’m a potential liability. If it’s a liability, they may be looking for us to tie off loose ends.”

Risha started to leaf through the contents of the folder. “And since you let Rogun handle the day-to-day operations, they can’t grab you at Port Nowhere, since you have no reason to be there. But they don’t know that.”

Eva pointed at Risha. “Correct. Logically, the criminal mastermind has her lair at Port Nowhere – if they are looking for me, they probably got a person in there already.” Eva scooted to the edge of the desk and grabbed the files off her chair, stacked them on the desk, then plopped herself down in the chair in order to start clearing a wider path on the floor. As she worked, she continued. “I asked Shan about the process of our employment – when did Darok know I was definitely the one. Basically, the day Corso and I walked into the command center.”

Risha continued the working theory. “Therefore, anyone new at Port Nowhere – minus the people we have on our private docket – would be the only candidates to be feeding information back to Darok or Arkous.” 

Eva raised a finger, then disappeared under her desk momentarily. Reappearing, she held up her Holonet transceiver. “Or someone at Port Nowhere started a new pattern of messaging.” She tossed the hand-held device up to Risha. “Read Rogun’s last communique.” She disappeared again.

“I’m surprised you don’t have him delivering it like an old daily newspaper to you via courier, but that would be a lot of dead mailboys,” Risha mused as she ran a finger over the message from Rogun. A pause. “Huh.” Another pause. “Going to make an example of someone?”

“Maybe,” was the only answer Eva could offer as she rose to her feet with an armful of papers that were placed again on the desk. 

“It’s what I would do. And probably my father, but you’d take that as a disincentive.” Risha placed the transceiver on the one vacant space on the desk. 

Eva put her hands on her hips and stared at the pile before looking back at Risha. “In this situation, he may not be wrong. If it’s who I think it is, it’s high enough on the food chain that I need to put the fear of the Voidhound into a few whelps.”

Risha smiled at Eva’s consternation. “I love it when you talk like an actual lord of the underworld – makes me think of the good old days.” With that, Risha turned on her heel, and Eva could swear she actually had a bounce in her step.

That girl had issues.

Eva quietly followed Risha out to clear out the galley, as Bowdaar had requested.

**

Eva bundled the last of the files away into her cabinet as she heard someone calling into the Holoterminal. Corso picked up. “Howdy.” Then “Yeah, I can see if she wants to talk.”

That immediately told Eva that yes, she wanted to talk. Corso stuck his head in. “Secret agent guy. Did he pay us in full?” 

Eva gave Corso a reproachful look as she moved past him into the hallway. “Weren’t you the one who said we should do it for the Republic?” 

“Just don’t let him push you around, ok?” Corso mumbled before ducking into the cockpit. Eva continued to look after him for a moment before making sure she was presentable – shirt tucked, trousers pressed, vest buttoned, boots on. Business was still business, even if money wasn’t changing hands.

Theron Shan’s holo image was projecting into the empty room. “Agent Shan. What’s the occasion?” Eva greeted him as she rounded the terminal. 

“Captain Corolastor. I’m reaching out to let you know there’s been a development on our end.” Shan squared himself to the projector. “We’ve had someone from Port Nowhere reach out to us…offering information about you.”

Eva grimly nodded. “I’ve reached the same conclusion. And you’re not the only customer this source has been making overtures to.” Eva reached into an interior pocket in her vest and pulled out her Holonet transceiver. “My intel states that the traitor in my organization has been shopping this information to two branches of Pub – SIS and what I suspect to be SpecForce. Either way, it looks like info is trying to be rammed back to our mutual friend. However, I don’t know whether anything has been procured…” She looked expectantly at Shan. 

He shook his head. “Our mutual friend hasn’t received anything interesting with a large packet size.” 

“And the SIS offer?” 

“Is being entertained.” Shan coolly set down his datapad, which disappeared from Eva’s vision, then thumbed one of his implants at his temple. The image flickered momentarily. “You still read me?”

“Yes.” Her brows furrowed as lights lit up around the edge of the holoterminal. “Encrypted lines, both ways. Neat trick.”

“Or maybe just a dumb party trick, for a spy,” Shan replied. “The source on your end reached out to me, personally. Audio recording that self-deleted once it was listened to -said he would only make contact once – the rest was in my hands. Unfortunately for him, the implants unscramble and demask any attempt at audio manipulation. It also preserved the recording, but it’s only in here—” His hand ghosted up toward his head before returning to his side. “I could identify the voice if I had to.” Shan crossed his arms. “He knew that you and I had some sort of … interaction.” Shan chose his words carefully.

Eva shook her head. “More likely the SIS payment for the Korriban-Tython gig. You appropriated it; it came through my accounts with your name on the memo line.”

“You have a suspect.” He did not sound surprised.

“I do.”

There were several seconds of silence as the spy and smuggler sized each other up. Eva could just take care of it as planned. However, there was a risk – a small one – that she was wrong. She could kill an innocent man and leave the actual bad actor in her immediate vicinity while on Port Nowhere. 

Now, she could make Risha very happy and nostalgic by killing all of her lieutenants and starting fresh. 

Or Theron Shan could confirm the identity and make it possible for Eva to do the precision strike as planned. But that would mean an SIS agent would have to come to Port Nowhere and interact with the suspect to obtain a proper audio sample. If Eva was imagining the right suspect, he would not reach out to Shan again, nor would he come to the holoterminal if she asked. If anything, that would set him on alert. 

They had agreed that he was dead nearly three years ago. 

Well, maybe it was time to make an honest person of everyone involved in that deal. If this was going to go down, it had to be done in person at Port Nowhere. But involving the Pubs…

As Eva was turning the situation over in her mind, like a puzzle cube, Shan broke the silence. “There’s no evidence this is directly connected to our primary concern. We could disregard—”

Eva shook her head. “No. Best to weed it out now.”

Agent Shan regarded her carefully. “You are no good to me dead. I want to help. But I don’t see how – ”

“I thought you said you weren’t opposed to extracurriculars?” She turned her face up at the holo image with an expectant, tight smile on her face. 

Shan’s head jerked back slightly. “I had meant I wasn’t opposed to extracurricular activities for _you_ –”

“But aren’t we _new friends_ , Agent Shan?” Eva pressed him, hands on her hips. “I’ve already proven myself very useful to you. After two months of silence, I think you could do something for me.” Eva stilled all movement, relaxed her stance, and waited. Now it was his turn to weigh the situation and its risks. 

Initially, Agent Shan tried to slow play it. “So. You’re proposing… that you take me…”

Eva had decided to throw a spanner into his works. “In so many ways, but for now, yes, to Port Nowhere.”

That jolted him – his eyebrows shot half-way up to his hairline, and she thought she saw one of his implants flicker out. Eva broke out into a toothy grin as Theron stammered for a second before pushing out the words, “To-to-to resolve your internal problem. And I’m not to act on other Pub intel regarding Port Nowhere?”

Eva scoffed. “I don’t plan on showing you where it is. We pick you up, you turn off your implants – I know you guys can do it, something with the teeth,” she cut herself off as she saw Theron start to object. “I know you can do it – lesser men have implants, too. Anyway, you come with us, you ID the voice, we come back, and you’re home in time for – whatever.” She shrugged. “Very simple.” 

“Very risky, if I’m caught out,” Theron stalled.

“I like risks.” A beat. “I thought you did, too, given our digging expedition. But only if it serves you and the Republic? Is that a new clause in our partnership agreement?” Eva was enjoying running this game far too much. One well-placed flirt, and he was off-kilter.

Theron regrouped – she could almost see some form of intense self-control clamp down on him. Her brain sent up a reminder about Jedi training. When he spoke again, Agent Shan was back. “No, we did make a partnership that served mutual interests, with allotment for extracurriculars. As long as we don’t burn each other,” he clarified with a harsh note. “When is this happening?”

She countered quickly, removing her smile so as not to antagonize him further. “When won’t you be missed? I don’t anticipate this taking longer than a couple of days, but smuggler life is not the most stable.” 

Agent Shan scowled as he reached for the formerly out-of-sight datapad, bringing it back into Eva’s vision. “Day after tomorrow. Pick up, in the evening, Coruscant, where?”

“Ship port would be most obvious, so not that.” Eva mentally went through her options. “After nightfall, I can ghost into local airspace…you live in a high-rise?”

“Yes.” Very matter-of-fact.

“Anyone there to see you go?”

“No.” Less matter-of-fact, something else there.

“Pick-up locally then, if you send over your address. Line is still secure.” 

A few beeps later, Eva could hear her nav computer picking up coordinates and making some sort of snide comment about the legality of _Virtue’s Thief_ being there. “I got it. We good, Agent Shan?” Eva gazed up at the holo image. 

“Yes.” He seemed to have something more to say, so Eva didn’t cut the line. She waited. Then, he carefully stated, “I don’t think it would be prudent for you to refer to me as Agent Shan while on Port Nowhere. Theron. Practice it.”

She nodded. “Fair enough. You can call me Eva after it’s all over, but not on Port Nowhere – it has to be Captain, if you’re passing as a crew member.” 

She actively chose not to add that, by calling her Eva on Port Nowhere, it would give the impression that they were sleeping together. She was fairly sure he’d blow an implant for real if she put that idea in his head. 

Theron agreed. “Understood, Captain. Theron out.”

The transmission cut out, and the holoterminal’s lights dimmed. As the darkness of the ship set in, Eva turned to see five sets of eyes peering at her from all sides, like creatures of the night. “What?”


	3. Outfoxing the Fox

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theron is subjected to a smuggler staff meeting. Guss is Guss. Trust issues abound.

Theron Shan checked over his bag one last time. Assuming he wasn’t deserted on Port Nowhere to be devoured by career criminals, he had munitions and toiletries to last three days. He was slightly chagrined that the Captain had been correct: he had assumed that she would be his useful tool, not the other way around. Turnabout was fair play, however. So here he was taking an unheard of (for him) four-day weekend. 

At least life wasn’t boring. A non-verbal alert came in through his implants. _Virtue’s Thief_ was arriving. This was something he had to do to keep the smuggler in the fold for his larger op. 

He slung a backpack over his right shoulder and grabbed a longer bag with his left hand. The door to his apartment balcony slid open, and he ordered the automatic lights to stay off. As it was, Coruscant’s light pollution made this pickup risky – any small thing to help. He only waited about a minute before he heard the XS growling through the night toward him. The ship was running completely dark. As it drew parallel to his balcony railing, he realized Eva Corolastor was standing atop her ship, dressed all in black, hair pulled back from her face. “Welcome to the _Thief_ ,” he heard her say quietly.

“Hey,” he greeted her. He shrugged off the backpack and passed it over to her – lighter load, faster transport for someone who knew their footing. She took hold of it and began to retreat in toward the open hatch, from which he could see a pale light. Leaving the longer bag on his balcony momentarily, he climbed up on his railing and stepped over to the ship. The pilot had a steady hand as the ship hovered almost motionless. 

Theron hefted the larger bag up and tried to hold it parallel to the hull, trying to keep it from clanking or knocking. Eva was back to help him silently cart it across the hull, her footfalls barely detectable. The two silently arranged themselves to distribute the weight, then crept toward the pale light at the hatch. Theron readjusted his grip as Eva let go and started her descent down the ladder, then quietly called for him. “Theron, lower it.” Between the two of them, they were able to tilt it upright and lower it straight down into the _Thief_ without a clank or a knock. Eva gestured for him not to come down yet, and he could hear words being exchanged below. 

Finally, she came back up the ladder. “I need to lock up,” she whispered as she hauled herself up onto the hull again. Theron took that as his cue to go in, only pausing to make sure his own home security systems were active. 

Granted, it wasn’t as if he had a whole lot of stuff in his apartment anyway. It was functional. It was a place that was not work that he ate and slept in. That was about it. 

Theron climbed down the ladder and found himself in a short narrow hallway. He moved down a bit to allow Eva to slide down the ladder and stick the landing. She turned around to face Theron, the yellowish lights of the hallway making them both look jaundiced. “Right, business first. Implants off.” 

Theron studied her carefully. “I won’t be as useful.”

“That’s part of the point. I don’t want you to be too useful to the Republic right now. Just me.” Eva leaned against the ladder, an arm looped through it. “I know you will turn the implants back on once we get to Port Nowhere to access the sound file you have. Is there any way for you to avoid ‘going online?’ I don’t want some satellite to trace you there.” She pursed her lips and waited for his response. 

Something wasn’t sitting right here. “The Republic already knows that Port Nowhere is mobile again. That’s old news – people on the dark net couldn’t stop chatting about it. I’d look as if I was on a random slow-moving freighter in space, if they decided to check up on me.”

Eva was already shaking her head. “It’s other things that your implants would record that I don’t want getting back to Pub space. People exist that shouldn’t. My business operates in ways that I don’t think Pubs or Imps have considered. My crew – I don’t want them at risk in the future.”

Theron mirrored her positioning, leaning on the ladder, one arm looped through it. “Listen, we have made a partnership. I admit, I didn’t initially think I’d be as useful to you as you were to me, but here we are. This won’t get back to SIS.”

“You may be your own man, but your implants are SIS-issued.” She almost immediately changed her posture once she realized he was mirroring. Interesting. Now she leaned back against the wall, hands behind her.

Theron allowed himself a small bit of humor. “Despite the stories, SIS agents don’t have self-destruct mechanisms that go off for disloyal or impure thoughts. Especially the second one; I know one guy who would have dropped dead at graduation for eyeballing the Director’s ex-wife.” He managed to get a ‘heh’ out of her. “Seriously though, SIS can’t access my implants unless I let them. I don’t plan on being conspicuous, so nobody will see Theron Shan there – they won’t have a reason to ask me.”

Eva remained stubborn. “I’d still prefer it if you turned them off, _as agreed_.” 

Theron remained equally as stubborn. “How would you know if I even turned them off anyway?” She frowned, and Theron found some dark pride in finally playing the role of the fox rather than the hound. “Whether I turn them off or not, whether I spill my guts after I get back, whether I’m actually in this with Darok – it’s all a matter of trust.”

Eva’s anger simmered as she drew away from the wall to come closer to Theron. “Port Nowhere is under my rule. What happens to you there is completely in my hands.” 

“Hell of a trump card. But you’d only get to use it once. Better make it count.” Theron pulled his arm free from the ladder and straightened up to his full height. “I _trust_ you’ll make the right decision for you and your crew. I assume my stuff is this way?” He pointed down the narrow hallway, the only way one could go. 

He saw those deep eyes ignite, and he still liked watching it happen – though he did wish it wasn’t directed at him. “Head straight in. Crew moved your stuff into the main lounge.” There was a flat affect in her voice, and he watched as she packed up her emotions. He could almost see the little boxes being filled as each emoting feature of herself was put away. 

Theron turned away to follow the hallway to the main of the ship. He could hear her footsteps behind him, regulated and checked. Theron’s eyes gradually adjusted to artificial lighting of the ship. It was definitely an old ship, but rather than run-down, it just felt lived in. He noted a box of paperwork and a pile of folders not far from the doorway. Good maintenance. His bags were where Eva said they would be. 

There were also three members of the crew waiting for him as well – Guss, Akaavi, Risha. Guss and Risha were at the main table, while Akaavi sat on a pile of storage crates nearby. Theron turned back to look at the Captain. “Give your co-pilot my compliments. Smooth pick up.”

Over the ship’s comm, he heard a very pleased Wookiee roar his approval. “Bowdaar appreciates that, thank you,” Eva translated. 

Theron decided not to tell her that could do that himself with the implants. 

“Hey, I helped, too,” came Corso’s voice. 

“And Corso also takes credit – you met him on mission, as you did the vulture perched over there, Akaavi.” Eva light-heartedly gestured to the Mandalorian who sat primly in her seat, but eyed Theron shrewdly. 

He gave her a nod. She deserved his respect. “Good intel gathering.” She gave him a nod back. 

The Mando wasn’t going to kill him for laughs right off the jump. This was going well. “The two you didn’t meet – Risha and Guss. Risha’s the girl, by the way.” Eva mischievously smirked as Risha huffed at her. Guss waved.

“He probably knows me from the intel he’s gathered about you – and my father possibly. Nok Drayen,” Risha said, arms crossing. “You brought a lot of luggage with you.” Her eyes critically scanned the bags.

Theron shrugged. “I’ve been to Port Nowhere before. I understand it’s under new management, but I decided to play it safe and cover up.” He pointed at his implants. “Sort of recognizable.”

Guss, the Mon Calamari, nodded. “Yeah, and they’re worth good money – people will cut up a brain in order to disconnect them from a prior owner, and there’s enough demand that the second-hand market is really strong.”

Theron stared at Guss. Risha pinched the bridge of her nose, while Eva made a noise that sounded suspiciously amused.

“What, it’s not as if I looked it up just because you were coming onboard.” 

Theron just shook his head and crouched down to the longer bag in front of the table. He unzipped it to reveal a complete set of armor for a bounty hunter. Theron held up the helmet: full face cover, respirator, and voice scrambler. Akaavi got up from her seat to inspect the goods, taking the helmet from his hands. “The Fearless Hunter. Nice model. Not Mandalorian, but still solid.”

“I wasn’t going to pass myself off as Mando. Better just to be some random wastoid who likes to shoot things and run around with a lady smuggler.” Theron stood back up, and Akaavi put the helmet on the main table. 

“That description fits almost everyone on board, so good disguise,” Risha quipped. 

“I feel attacked.” Guss grabbed his glass off the table and finished whatever was in it. “So what is the game plan for the Port?” He waved Theron and Akaavi over to sit down with him and Risha at the main table. Theron wisely sat down at the far end of the table next to Guss, while Akaavi sat down next to Risha on the opposite side. 

Eva hit the ship comm. “We ready to jump yet?”

“Almost,” came Corso’s reply.

“Can you listen while doing that?”

“Pretty sure I can – Bowdaar might get annoyed.”

“That’s his problem. Right.” Eva hit a few switches on her holoterminal, and up came a general schematic for a Hutt Azalus-class dreadnaught. Port Nowhere’s original design – no doubt no longer up to date, but it was clear that Eva wasn’t going to give him anything as to the current state of the space station. “So, to be clear, Theron.”

Eva used his name, and it caught his attention. He had given her permission. “Everyone here listened in on our chat the other night. We’re going to Port Nowhere to smoke out the person attempting to sell me out to SIS and SpecForce. You know what that person sounds like. I have my suspicions as to who that is, as does my second-in-command, Rogun, formerly the Butcher.” 

“He’s actually a really nice guy after a couple of drinks and a few pity hands of pazaak,” Guss leaned over to inform Theron. 

“Or if you’re his wingman – I actually got Alilia to call him back.” Eva gave herself two thumbs up on that count. 

Risha let out a low whistle. “She has more baggage than Galactic City Spaceport. And what about the kid?”

“That’s her business to tell him.” Eva cleared her throat. “Anyway.” The generic map flashed yellow in the hanger area, and a graphic of the XS popped on. “Nobody goes anywhere alone. I want two people with blasters guarding the ship from inside, running diagnostics on a loop to detect any tampering with the ship. We got the usual guards outside, and having you stand out there too just makes you target practice and gives rise to the idea I’m suspicious.”

“Do you think the betrayal has run through the whole station?” Akaavi asked. 

“Don’t know, don’t want the risk.” Next, a large area glowed purple. “I need my two favorite shady underworld figures, Risha and Guss, listening in the cantina and in the casinos. Do not separate. Guss, don’t be creepy.”

“It’s not like I can do anything anyway – I’m biologically incompatible with all of you.” 

“Yet you subject us to your pornography collection and flirting,” Akaavi harshly retorted, sneering over the table at him.

Guss shrugged. “Heart wants what it wants.” Akaavi _growled_ at him, and Theron realized that he had chosen his seat poorly after all. 

Bowdaar barked over the intercom. “Theron, Bowdaar has invited you up to the cockpit where it is safe.” Eva highlighted the next part of the schematic nonchalantly. “I’m to stay here and give the play by play, at the risk of my own life and limbs.”

“You do the voices so well, Cap, like the announcers on the Holonet,” chimed in Corso. 

Externally, Theron politely declined. “I’m fine, really.” Internally, all he could think was “Goddamn. Smugglers and their extracurriculars.”

But at least it wasn’t a _boring_ briefing. 

The schematic glowed orange in several different areas. “Back offices. I will be with Theron, probably Rogun. We will deal with the problem. I’m assuming Akaavi will remain on the ship to watch the shop and not murder Guss.” Akaavi grunted. She’d rather kill Guss, but being separated was fine too. “That means either Corso or Bowie will go stealth and find a vantage point to watch from. Boys, the stealth guy has to be constantly chattering with the ship. I don’t want you getting lost in an airduct somewhere.” Eva tapped the schematic again. “Sending this to you – green areas are recommended hiding places. You’ll know it when you see it.”

“We’ll draw cards on that later. We got the plan, Captain,” Corso affirmed. 

Eva turned her gaze back to the main table. “Anyone over here got questions?”

Risha shook her head. “Business as usual: don’t end up dead, and be ready for trouble. You’re the one taking the risks here.”

“And that’s the way it should be. If trouble comes,” Eva was joined by the rest of the crew in saying the last part, “Get on the ship and leave me behind.” 

Eva nodded. “Get some rest before we dock. Night, folks.” She turned off the holoterminal and cut the ship comm. Theron rose from his seat to let the others file past him toward the crew quarters – girls separate from the boys. Although Theron was running on Coruscant time, it appeared the crew was running a few hours later.

“We figured you could bunk in medbay. We spend enough time in there to know the beds are comfortable.” Eva’s tired voice caused him to straighten up and turn around. He nodded as she rolled her shoulder back to indicate he should follow. He trotted a few steps to catch up with her so they could walk side-by-side. “Medbay has its own head, so you don’t need to go stumbling through the night to find it.” She waved a hand and the door slid open. The medbay was clean and relatively quiet. 

Eva continued. “Back the other way is my quarters, and next to that, the galley, in case you wanted to grab something. From the galley,” she caught herself quickly. She rubbed her brow with one hand. “Long day.” 

Theron chuckled. “I figured.” The door swished closed behind her, but before she could reopen it, he asked, “You sure you don’t want the odd man with us with Rogun?”

Eva shook her head. 

“You can, if you want. If you don’t trust me.”

“It’s about risk, not trust.” Eva stopped herself before she said anything else, silently passing through the medbay door and gesturing for him to follow. Eva sat down on the office chair in the medbay.

Theron took that as his cue to sit as well, on the available bed. He dropped his bag on the bed beside him. Theron clasped his hands folded his hands in his lap, waiting and observing. 

Eva crossed her legs at the ankles, the black trousers riding up slightly to reveal the high boots underneath. Her arms used the arm rests, though her right hand tapped out a silent rhythm, the thumb bouncing between each finger up and down her hand. Nerves. “Yes, I do have concerns about SIS coming back on me, with or without your involvement. You working with Darok was already something I’ve considered.”

Smart woman. She would have been foolish if she hadn’t considered it. Theron kept his mouth shut, not wanting to talk himself out of a partner. 

“The risk this puts on my crew is something I weigh. They aren’t fodder. They’re what I have. That and the _Thief_. If it’s just me in there with the traitor, it’s just me.”

“You’re the Captain. You take the most risk.” He’d met combat leaders like this, the opposite of spaceport generals.

“Which means I minimize risk for everyone else.” Eva let out one of those short, bitter laughs. “Apparently, that makes you a legend when you’re extra stupid and survive anyway, as a smug.” 

Theron watched her carefully from his neutral position across from her. Gears began to whir in his head, and he wasn’t talking about his (still active) implants. “The implants, in your view, are a risk. If you knew I turned them off, would you still leave out the third man?”

“Yes.”

“Because that crew person is at risk alongside you.”

“Yes.”

Her right hand continued to move. She was not done yet. “Something else,” Theron finally said. “There is something else.” He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, hands folded in front of him. Now he was eye-to-eye with her.

Eva swallowed, and she deliberately looked away from him, finding the ceiling more interesting at the moment. “My gut disagrees with my head about getting involved with this operation and whether I should trust you, Agent Shan. Combination of past history and present concerns about Pub corruption. As someone normally outside the bounds of the law, somehow I’m cleaning house for the Republic on multiple occasions.” 

She resumed eye contact with him. Yes, she was tired. It had been a long run, these last four years. Theron thought back to the earliest pieces of intelligence he had of her. “She was never here.” The people out in the galaxy trusted her more than their own officials, Pub or Imp. They covered for her other activities. She wasn’t corrupt.

Theron felt his heart pull downward, slightly. The Republic wasn’t perfect. It had higher aspirations than the Empire did…which made its stumbling all the more disheartening. “The friendly neighborhood crime lord shouldn’t be the one you go to first for problems,” Theron said quietly. 

“I mean, I will admit, it’s fun once in awhile to play fairy godmother or avenging angel – depending on the day.” The hands stilled, the ankles uncrossed, and she stood up. “But to do this consistently, as part of my gig. And to have a man like you running counter intel on your own people to make sure _they’re_ on the up and up…” 

“And what is ‘a man like me’?” Theron asked.

Arms at her side, Eva went still, considering the question, eyes taking him in as he sat across the room from her. “That is the question,” she finally pushed through her lips. “I may find out tomorrow.” A pause. “Good night.”

“Good night,” he responded as she swiftly turned to walk out the door. He heard it lock behind her, likely so that anyone who passed the door in the night wouldn’t constantly be flooding his sleeping area with light. 

Ha, a sign he trusted her more than she trusted him. Theron flopped back onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. What was ‘a man like him’ doing here? He had to keep the _Thief_ and its crew in the game. They were useful. 

He considered the Captain and the individuals on her crew. What he knew of them. What he saw of them. What else they had beyond the _Thief_. 

The last thing he did before ordering the lights to go out: he clicked his back teeth together. 


	4. The Dead Are Alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theron meets Rogun the Butcher, disguised as "the new guy." Apparently, the dead aren't always dead.

In the darkness of medbay, Theron Shan had decided, at minimum, he was a good man. Good men kept promises, even when they were made while startled by sexual innuendo. 

But he was still an agent. He didn’t have to inform people whether or not he was keeping promises. He also had to do enough to ensure his future missions would be taken up by the Voidhound; she needed to trust him. There were only so many ways he could prove that within professional boundaries, given that she was outside the law – the law that he was supposed to uphold as a Republic SIS agent. 

It had gnawed at him that she didn’t know what sort of man he was – that she was not sure if he was a clean agent. He’d rolled over onto his stomach to think about it. That was the punchline of that whole Republic corruption spiel: Theron Shan may be corrupt. She did not know for sure. That had ground his gears, but the irritation wasn’t directed at her. Her concerns were valid. 

So he had done it: he turned off his implants. 

Just because he was running without his implants didn’t mean he was brain dead or unable to gather intel. Eva knew that. She was taking him to Port Nowhere to help her – act of trust on her part, even if she benefited. Once she returned him to Coruscant, her world was in his hands. Conversely, Theron had to trust that she wouldn’t use him and discard him on Port Nowhere itself – that would be dangerous to his life, even if it wasn’t disruptive to his career. 

The next morning, the hydraulics hissed as Virtue’s Thief’s gangplank lowered itself to meet the landing bay at Port Nowhere. Captain Corolastor – not Eva until all this was over -- had emerged from her quarters at last, the Dark Lady guise on for today. It had been the outfit she wore when she killed the Voidwolf. It was what had made her the great smuggler of the galaxy. Today, she wore a pale blue ascot with the blackest black blastweave, the large hat adding glamor. They would know her when they saw her.

They would not know Theron Shan. He dressed up in gently used armor, his face concealed, his voice altered, and perhaps most honest or idiotic of all, he was running without his implants. He walked out a few steps behind her, with Risha and Guss keeping equal distance and deference. It was bizarre what protocols transferred between the world above and the underworld. 

Rogun Matt’rik awaited them at the bottom of the gangplank, accompanied by armed guards. “Nowhere is home, Captain.”

“Nowhere is home,” Captain Corolastor answered in a measured voice. She shook his hand and gave the nod to his escort. “I don’t anticipate being here for too long. You know the business.”

Rogun fell into step alongside her, his security detachment falling behind both him and her crew. As they reached a junction in the hall way, Captain Corolastor stopped to wave Guss and Risha in toward the casino. Rogun’s security looked to him. He made no motion.

Corolastor and Rogun continued their silent stroll through the hallways of Port Nowhere. Theron was careful to keep pace and to keep a hand on the blaster rifle he had strapped across his chest. “New guy?” Rogun asked, eventually.

“New guy. Need to see how he does under pressure. This is a controlled situation.” 

About twelve minutes into this long walk, Theron noticed her swaying into Rogun’s path, bumping him slightly. Ten paces later, Rogun turned to his detachment. “Take a caf break. Be back in an hour. My office.”

The two security officers looked momentarily confused, then shrugged and went on their way. Once they were clear of earshot and out of the line of vision, Rogun moved to the wall, grabbed one of the light fixtures, and twisted it. A door popped open. Silently, Captain Corolastor moved through it. Rogun impatiently waved Theron in. No questions were asked.

The hallway was tortuous, twisting in upon itself as it squirmed through the bowels of the space station. No talking. Finally, they reached the end of the hallway and came into a well-lit room. “Bug scan. No offense,” the Captain said to Rogun as she activated a device on her wrist comm. 

Rogun shrugged it off. “None taken. Made this place soundproofed as you wanted it, so no one in the office can hear us either.” 

Once the bug check came clean, Corolastor visibly relaxed. She turned to Theron. “Ok, you trust me?”

What was she doing? “Yes, Captain.” If he sounded caught off-guard, he wasn’t acting, and that was probably helpful in this situation. 

“Well, I trust you,” she said. Through the tint of the helmet, he could see her eyes trying to make contact with his. “You do what I told you on the ship. You’ll be fine.” The Captain thumped his shoulder twice. Theron nodded his head.

And he turned his implants back on to access the sound file – that was all. She had to be sure it wasn’t Rogun. 

Corolastor turned to Rogun. “So, what do you and Port Nowhere know about me and the Republic? Hold nothing back.”

Rogun actually grinned at her, the crooked teeth gleaming. Theron was unsettled by the sight. “You know I bleed blue and white. Most people here would have no place in the Empire. The whole medal of valor of thing was a turn on, for some.” 

“Not you though. How’s Alilia?”

Rogun actually looked slightly bashful at the shift in topic. “Uhm. Yeah. That’s a long story. I want this business done first before.” Rogun glanced over at Theron. “Is he really necessary?”

Captain Corolastor coolly adjusted a glove before answering. “Yes. Let’s just say he’s my interrogation specialist.” Rogun’s eyes grew large. “I need to finish what I started three years ago.” 

Rogun stared at Theron, but he continued to speak to Corolastor. “Did SIS or SpecForce respond to the offers?”

“No, according to my source. No sign they took them seriously. Still, I don’t want the Republic to be led into the temptation to bust us up by whatever their penpal plans to shop to them.” Eva jerked her head toward the door. “Does he have a circle here?”

Rogun narrowed his eyes at Theron, then returned his attention to Corolastor. “He’s been alone since he got here. He runs the back single-handedly, but he doesn’t make friends easy. He has a couple of lackeys that follow him around like the old prizefighter he was, but nothing worth getting sand up your snatch for.” 

Theron blinked under his mask, but that was the only reaction he permitted himself. 

Rogun sighed and immediately went to his wrist comm. Corolaster craned her neck over to see what he was doing. “Oh, a deposit to an account. She does have her claws in you.” 

Rogun turned slightly purple, a blush coming through the blue tones of his skin. “She doesn’t want me talking like that in front of her kid. Best way to break me of it is to cost me money.” Rogun took a deep breath. “A _lot_ of money. Trust fund.”

“Trick will need it. Poor guy.” Corolastor seemed sad at the thought of whoever “Trick” was. After Rogun finished the transaction, she picked up the conversation. “You sure he doesn’t have anyone else in play?”

“Not here,” Rogun reiterated. “We need to talk more about this later. Let’s get done what has to be done.”

Captain Corolastor shot a look at Theron, then grabbed Rogun by the arm. “You sure? He’s the one, you think?”

Rogun, distracted by the Captain’s theatrics, did not see Theron shake his head once. The voices did not match. “I swear on the Republic. You do what you have to do.”

Rogun started to move, but Corolastor kept her grip. “You two got long history.”

Rogun exhaled. “I gained when he went into the clink. Then he started playing footsie with the Empire. He helped you, you helped me, you gave him a second chance after everything he done. I wouldn’t have.” Rogun roughly pried Corolastor’s hand off his arm. “I would have been good if you did this three years ago. I’m good with it now.”

Corolastor stepped away from Rogun and turned to move toward the door at the far end of the room. “You mad at me for not dealing with this three years ago?”

Rogun followed her, shaking his head. “No. You dealt with it different. And to be honest, we made bank. I’m not going to cry over credits. But I will say you have to end it here. And the longer we wait, the more antsy I get.”

“I got you.” The Captain bent slightly at the waist to give the security door her eye scan, then passed through, followed by Rogun and then by Theron. 

The door opened into a waiting room, but they quickly bypassed that and went into another secured hallway, finally entering an office. There was a lone figure waiting for them. 

He knew they were coming. The day’s work had been filed away. The Rattataki male sat with his hands folded on his desk. His eyes had been fixed on the door, waiting for them to walk through even before the door was opened. The expression on his face did not change. He did not move. He did not blink. 

Theron knew who he was. He was happy he had that stupid helmet on, because he was horrified, even as his legs conveyed him into the office, drawing nearer to --

Theron fought against the urge to turn his implants completely back on so he could access the Holonet, to try to convince himself this wasn’t what he knew it was. He tried to focus on what actually needed to be done: the sound file was up. He needed to confirm it. Corolastor finally spoke, and Theron hated the words she spoke next. “Hello, Ivory.”


	5. Goddess of the Underworld

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The traitor is dealt with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a reminder that as much as we may like the Smuggler, she is not a perfect, light-side creature. She has done horrible things in the past. She still has terrible things up her sleeve. The rating on the work has risen for this reason.

Ivory’s head tilted. The only movement. “Hello, Voidhound.” Theron’s flesh crawled. The dead eyes. Not flat, like a card player’s trick. His pale eyes had no light in them, nor a glimmer of a soul. “Rogun.”

Ivory was supposedly dead. Killed by Captain Corolastor on Belsavis. He’d been sent to the secret prison for a wide variety of smuggling offenses. The most grievous charges were trafficking of children. Some ended up in the gladiatorial games for the Hutts.

Some did not.

Theron had risen in the ranks so quickly at such a young age because of Ivory eliminating agents that attempted to take him down and Ivory’s victims leaving their mark on the people that tried to help them. Early retirement and alcoholism abounded. Theron had benefited from Ivory’s reign of terror. He did not like that fact. He liked less what Corolastor did next.

Corolastor smoothly crossed the room and rounded the desk, offering a hand to Ivory. At last, he blinked and stared at it. “Come on, pull yourself up. I know I asked to meet here, but I’m thinking I rather have this up in the bar. Too starchy down here for my tastes.” Corolastor flashed a grin at Rogun. Theron looked between her and Rogun, who was as put off as he was. 

Ivory hesitantly took her hand and she helped pull him to his feet. He was old. Rattataki did not show their age as obviously as humans did, but he was at least old enough to be Rogun’s father. Ivory gained his balance. His step stuttered slightly, and Corolastor steadied him, putting a kind, almost daughterly hand to his back to urge him toward the door.

Theron stood aside at the door and let the three crime lords pass by him first. He did not look at her face as she passed.

The transit from the office area to the cantina was much, much shorter, but Ivory’s pace was stilted in comparison to the swift progress that had been made earlier. Captain Corolastor was all courtesy and deference to the older man. She went directly to her personal table at the cantina. It was a solid, well-made table, with individual seats – no benches. But it did have privacy screens spaced out around it, both to keep other people out and to prevent distraction. Theron could lurk outside and keep his eye on all three of them, however. He positioned himself directly behind Corolastor – he was her guard, after all. 

“Watch our backs while we work,” was her only directive to Theron as she was served her Sullustan gin and tonic, something that was likely prepared the second the barman saw her. 

“Sorry, about that, Rogun,” Corolastor bowed her head slightly at the table. “I know how you hate last minute changes, but it seems overly formal down in the office.”

Theron made sure Ivory’s voice patterns were now being run through his implants to match to the brief and brusque message he’d received earlier that week. He angled himself so that could keep an eye on the table and the rest of the cantina. Standing, he could see the large Holoscreen that the table was positioned to ignore. 

“Should have anticipated – you never do business in the office. You either do it here or remotely on that firetrap of yours.” Rogun took a swallow of his beer.

“Speaking of which, I’m going to reverse her retrofit. Make her a real ghost ship.”

Rogun indicated his approval. “Everyone needs a hobby. Mine was art collecting. Then I acquired a girl with a kid.”

Ivory stirred a green-colored drink in a high-ball glass and made a face as one of the younger spacers fed the jukebox tokens to play pop tunes. “I don’t see the appeal.”

Corolastor took a sip of her drink. “Alilia’s good people. She’s the opposite of high maintenance.”

Rogun raised his beer to that. “She doesn’t need a man, and I don’t need a girl, so we work great together.”

Captain Corolastor pulled out a datapad. “So, I just finished doing one of my runs to Makeb, the eternally dying planet.” Both men laughed at that. “I found a group of Imp drilling engineers that are hot for stuff beyond the stims and the alcohol. They want more.”

Ivory finished stirring with his drink and finally had some of it. “What do they actually have to give up? Rock collecting went out of vogue twenty years ago, and not a lot of artisan crafting can happen without a steady hand.” He sneered over his glass at Captain Corolastor, who laughed at his comments.

“Isotope-5, boys.” Corolastor’s datapad projected the formula of the highly desirable radioactive chemical up above the table. 

Rogun ran a critical eye over it. “What do they want for the isotope-5? And how are they going to get more? I thought they blew – used it all.” Rogun was really trying hard not to pay too much into Trick’s trust fund today. 

Corolastor carefully flicked her fingers on the screen twice and a new graphic emerged. “Imps are still extracting it, though with limited success due to the shakes. These guys are too smart to be tooling around as your typical miners, but they are the best of the best, entrusted with the most valuable element in the galaxy. So they are bored, want to get off planet.” She leaned forward to point out different pieces of the graphic. “They will trade us the isotope-5 for three things. The first is, they want us to put bounty contracts on their superior officers so they get promoted off that hellhole.”

“And the second two things?” Rogun asked.

“Death sticks and spice. They are bored, and the stims aren’t doing it for them anymore.” Corolastor leaned back in her seat. “Large shipment first – give ‘em as much as they can take, they hand over the isotope-5, and watch them kill braincells. Get as much as we can out of that first shipment, because the population is only going lower.” Corolastor retrieved her datapad from the middle of the table after Rogun finish perusing it. 

It was at that moment that Theron noticed the screen at the far end of the cantina went black.

Corolastor continued, “I figure, from the Pub angle, we can offer the Pubs the isotope-5, they’d pay massive credits for it. No questions. We let them know that we’re helping out engineers frag their officers – they pay us more credits to encourage behavior, get the job done with really good hunters.. Tell ‘em we can slow down extraction and continue to prevent Makeb from collapsing – because the engineers OD and remove themselves from the scene – they pay us more credits.” 

“Doesn’t get more dark, deadly, and devious than that. Yeah.” Rogun shotgunned the rest of his beer to signal his approval. 

Ivory scoffed. Loudly. 

Captain Corolastor turned her gaze on him. “Something wrong, Ivory?”

“I gave you my crown. You’ve done well with it,” he began. “But this is a joke.”

“Oh?”

Theron needed more. Keep him talking, he silently beseeched from behind his mask.

“Your business practice is flawed. By taking out the Imperials on Makeb, you kill that ring of illegal trade.”

Corolastor cut in. “It’s small as it is – remember, the Imps insist they are not officially there. Do we want a trickle for the next what, three years? Five years? I’m thinking we cut losses and just make the grab, hurry this thing along.” 

Ivory shook his head. “Impetuous girl. You don’t think burning the Empire on Makeb won’t have repercussions? You forget, some of the Hutts are still Sith aligned.”

Corolastor raised her pointer finger. “You forget, the Imps bumped the Hutts off Makeb. There are sore feelings there all around.”

Silence ensued.

Ivory neatly finished his drink before continuing, which took several minutes. Captain Coroloaster fidgeted with her datapad, as if she were a teenager. The way she held it… Theron realized he could see himself in it. And so could she. Ivory finally spoke. “You heed the call of the Republic far too willingly – inconvenient, but that’s not an unforgiveable sin, right, Rogun?”

Rogun did not speak. He drew back in his seat. 

“I won’t begrudge you doing business on Makeb and making this grab, but it fits a pattern of unprofitable activity to the advantage of the Republic. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were selling Port Nowhere out.” Ivory stabbed the lime at the bottom of his empty glass with his straw.

Theron’s implant synched the voice file to the current sample. It was him. Theron put his left hand up to his helmet, as if receiving a signal from the ship. It was the same motion he used to check his implants. 

Corolastor put the datapad down hard on the table, losing her sight of Theron. The moment the datapad struck the table, Theron immediately noticed that the large Holoscreen picked up a feed from a security camera that was positioned not far from the table. Theron eyed the feed, then looked to find the camera, its red light blinking slowly. The conversation was going out to the entirety of Port Nowhere. “But you do know me better, don’t you?” Corolaster evenly responded, taking a sip of her gin that was increasingly ice water rather than alcohol. “I mean, think of all the dealing I did to get you out of Belsavis.”

“For which I am appreciative,” Ivory asserted quickly.

“But as I recall, you were the one who told the Empire where Belsavis was, in part because they had your retirement home all set up for you. You were always Imp inclined. But as you say, no sin in that.”

“The Pubs are unnecessarily challenging to profit from. Fashions, trends, ever changing.”

“The fact I do more business with the Pubs than the Imps goes back to the simple fact that more people are considered ‘people’ there – more participation in the economy.” 

Ivory regarded her sourly. “I never had a problem profiting from the Empire.”

“You bought and sold people. Men. Women. Children,” Corolastor blandly retorted. “Slavery tends to cut into how many people actually participate in the economy rather than _be_ the economy.” Corolastor shook her glass, rearranging the small shards of ice that remained. 

Ivory pulled his lips back in a sneer. “It’s all business, Captain. Nothing personal. And you didn’t have a problem with it when you made me your partner. Are we having buyer’s remorse?”

Corolastor guffawed at that. “We have made far too much money for me to bitch and not be a hypocrite. Besides, you’ve been good about not dabbling in the trafficking – at my say so.” She shuffled the ice again then held it up for a passing waiter. Theron felt slightly less awful, knowing this. “I believe in redemption. Atonement. It was what it was. Now we’re talking today.”

Ivory shook his head. “I still think this profoundly unwise. You’d be better served letting that isotope-5 supply peter out – by all means, acquire what you can, but try not to destroy the Empire there. They are good for stability, if nothing else. The Republic will buckle under the weight of its own corruption soon enough.”

The waiter came to take Corolastor’s glass. She waved him off, not wanting a second drink. “Can’t disagree with you there. But the universe is changing faster than you think. Makeb is a dying planet. We get what we can now, we’re ready for whatever is next – which will come sooner than Makeb’s end. I’m thinking about making a war chest for whatever crazy uprising is next.” Corolastor leaned back in her seat, watching Ivory. 

Ivory dismissed her with a wave of his hand. “Here you are, working to expand and change markets, when there are far easier ways.” 

“Such as shopping me and Port Nowhere to the Pubs.” 

The words were so sharp, so quick, that Ivory looked as if Corolastor had shot him: mouth dropped open, the skin going another shade whiter, the eyes bulging. 

Theron’s eyes darted to the Holoscreen broadcast -- he couldn’t see her face from his angle. On the screen, Corolastor looked positively predatory, eyes gleaming, body coiled back in her seat across from Ivory. 

Ivory attempted to recover, quickly. “You did ask me to diversify our contacts in Pub space. I did so. Surely, you couldn’t have confused my business overtures for treason. That seems so unlike you.” 

Captain Corolastor’s head moved. Theron couldn’t help but compare it to a snake making the final adjustments before striking prey. “You’re right. I do have a history of confusing treason for business overtures, however.” 

Ivory laughed at her. It was hollow and grating, unsettling. Ivory’s laughter took on a hysterical bent, as Captain Corolastor smiled at him. With all her teeth. Theron turned to face inward at the table – it was coming.

And then it happened so quickly that neither Theron nor Rogun could react in time, though Theron was already moving to try to get --

Ivory lurched across the table at Captain Corolastor. Coroloastor sprang at him, boot gaining purchase on the edge of the table. Theron couldn’t get a shot off without going through Corolastor. As they collided hard in mid-air, a dull clang echoed through the cantina, and Corolastor wheezed. Ivory let out an inhuman shriek as her hands closed around his neck. Her stronger momentum slammed him back through one of the privacy screens, tearing it. Corolastor drove him to the floor. Theron still couldn’t get a shot off without hitting her.

Upon landing, Corolastor doubled over but shifted the grip of her right hand so that the left hand could sweep between them to knock away a large blade. As the knife clattered away, she swung her left fist back into Ivory’s face, smashing it into his upper cheek, before letting her left hand join the right in its grip around his neck. The Dark Lady pulled his head up and then thumped it – hard – on the floor once. Just once. 

By this point, Theron had maneuvered around the table to get an angle on Ivory without Corolastor in the way, and Rogun had spun out of his chair to keep the crowd back, firing once into the ceiling. 

Captain Corolastor drew herself to her feet to glare around the cantina, left hand going straight to her gut before she checked the motion. Could not reveal anything. Theron could not see where she was bleeding – he had seen the knife. A crowd had gathered, and anyone who wasn’t in the cantina was glued to the Holoscreens that were broadcasting it live across the entire space station. 

Time seemed to run out of sync with itself. Corolastor was slow on the draw. Theron felt as if Ivory was moving far too fast for her to stop him, as he made a desperate roll and grab for the knife. Theron fired once at the outreached hand, the rifle bolt traveling so slowly it did not seem to hit Ivory until after he started to scream. Corolastor threw up a hand toward Theron. “Enough. This one’s mine.” Now her blaster was out. 

At the sound of her voice, Ivory went silent. Time caught up to itself. Ivory remained motionless, the seeming picture of serenity as he lay on the cantina floor, two of his fingers separated from the rest of his left hand. 

The seconds ticked by. Theron actively fought the urge to fire again. 

Ivory finally blinked once, but the calm expression on his face did not waver. “Won’t you ask why?”

“I assume it was all business. Nothing personal.”

Ivory nodded from his position on the floor. He began to grin.

Captain Corolastor ended the smile with a single blaster shot to his forehead. The jaw went slack. The eyes were only half open. Target eliminated. Theron swung his rifle up to check the crowd. 

Corolastor looked at the crowd around her, then up at the Holonet security camera she had activated to capture the whole affair. “You have 48 hours to present yourself to Rogun the Butcher if you have offered Port Nowhere to the Pubs or the Imps. After the 48 hours, all traitors end this way.” She used her gun to gesture at the lifeless body. The bleeding had stopped soon after it began. She stared into the holo cam for ten, fifteen seconds more before shooting it out, ending the transmission in brutal (and suitably dramatic) fashion. 


	6. Communion, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eva and Theron escape to the back halls of Port Nowhere to do a damage assessment. The combination of a public murder, a brush with death, and a beskar vest makes for a conversation with more than just words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In canon, the Smuggler can become the goddess of the underworld by keeping her fleet separate from the Republic. It never quite sat right with me that there wasn't more "You scratch my back, I scratch yours" when she starts to work with Theron -- not an antagonistic relationship, but the Voidhound isn't someone's errand girl without some reciprocation. This is likely due to Bioware doing some streamlining to try to get everyone on the same plotline. However, fan fic exists to sort out the gaps and develop depth in our headcannons. 
> 
> I originally went into this story, thinking it would end at Rishi, but the 'side quest' to Port Nowhere took on a life of its own. I'm happy with it, plus it adds some pacing to the levels of trust the two characters have.

As a stream of smoke rose up from the holo cam, Theron, with his gun still aimed at the crowd, called to her. “Captain.” He could not convey much from behind the helmet, but she seemed to understand the request. She gave a silent nod, eyes still wild, but Theron could see the color draining from her face, even as she displayed bravado to the crowd, smiling in arrogant triumph. He had to get her out of there. He turned to Rogun. “Your office. Now.” Rogun’s head spun around at the surprisingly authoritative tone in Theron’s voice. It probably didn’t hurt that he had a rifle in his hands too.

Rogun wordlessly began to bully his way through the crowd, clearing a wide path for Captain Corolastor and Theron to follow. Theron was mindful of the need for deference – two steps behind her – but he was painfully aware that her pace was significantly reduced from the clip it had been just an hour earlier. She seemed to be fighting to breathe, though they both knew they could not stop until they were out of the crowd. This was about keeping up appearances, looking strong, terrible, and just. 

The first opportunity Theron had to shut a door behind them, he took it. It was a hallway that branched off from the main concourse – wide enough for two or three people, but not much more. As the door slid shut behind them, she stopped walking. She gasped for air and her balance wavered. Rogun stopped a few meters ahead of them, but Theron waved him on. “We’ll catch up. You prepare the way.” Rogun nodded and disappeared around the next corner.

Theron put the rifle on the ground and bent his head to try to look her in the face. “Where are you hit?” 

The Captain answered by rapping her abdomen, just under the rib cage. There was the clanking sound. “Hit the beskar vest. Hurts like a sonuvabitch.” 

Theron let go of the breath he had been holding. Probably not a crisis. That was nice for a change. “Beskar doesn’t give. Do you want me to check for glancing wound? You’ve gone pale.”

Corolastor closed her eyes tight and nodded. “I suspect it’s because I drank a gin for breakfast right before he gut-punched me with a knife, but yeah, I rather not give Rogun an early surprise for his birthday.”

“He seems like he’d rather have a girl pop out of a cake than have your intestines fall out on his desk.” Theron gently took a hold of her arm and guided her to the wall.

She tried to laugh at that and instead groaned. “He used to be an intestines guy. And the intestines in question were indeed mine.” Theron let out a short chuckle – he knew the story. “Definitely a cake guy now. I need to introduce you to Alilia. Seems rude to talk about her so much without you knowing her.”

“You got time.” Theron shook off his armored gloves as she leaned her weight back against the wall. Theron thought for a moment about positioning, then dropped to one knee and shifted his weight to his back leg; the mobility in bounty hunter armor was limited. Realizing that the helmet’s view slots weren’t great at staring at black-on-black-on-black, he took it off carefully as well. He knew his hair was a mess, but he didn’t care. Theron eased her overcoat out of his way. Theron frowned as he ran his hands across the front of her waist. 

The problem with blastweave was that it soaked up a _lot_ of liquid before the damp could penetrate through to the other side. It was one of its attractive properties for rainy weather – the person never got wet -- but the liquid resistance worked both ways: he couldn’t see or feel whether she was bleeding now because of the three or four layers she was wearing. He found the tear in the vest from the knife, but the shirt underneath had moved during the tussle.

Well. This was going to be nice and awkward. 

“Captain – ”

“Call me Eva. You earned it.” She managed to gasp out. Theron looked up at her. She had loosened her collar, the ascot was untied, and the hat was coming off. He had to get over himself and hurry up. 

Theron swallowed. “Eva, I’m going to unbutton your waistcoat and your shirt from here” -- he used a fingertip to press gently on one button that was completely over the beskar vest – “to here.” He pressed gently on a button that sat just above the waist of her trousers. “I should be able to see if you’re bleeding at that point.”

“Stupid blastweave,” she winced. She understood why. Her hat fell to the floor beside them.

“Yeah.”

Theron’s fingers flew over the buttons, first on the waistcoat, then on the shirt. As he pulled the fabric away from her body, he couldn’t help but flinch. 

Eva had not been stabbed successfully, but the beskar was so unyielding that the blunt impact had distributed the hit up and down the metal. That meant the edges of where the vest ended and her bare skin began were nastily bruised. The stripe of flesh he could see between the bottom of the beskar vest and her trousers had already started to turn purple. Theron carefully opened her shirt a bit wider to get an idea of how far the bruising went. 

Pretty far. If Theron had wanted to be thorough, he probably would have unbuttoned the fly on her trousers, but that was, as he determined, excessive. He ran a hand along the waistband of the pants, seeking a tear that would indicate the knife’s entry. None found. She wasn’t bleeding out. 

“How bad?” she asked, and he felt her hands fall to his shoulders, trying to keep balance. 

“You’re not bleeding. Do you feel this?” Theron carefully pressed on the first pale patches of skin at her waist on either side, and he looked up to see her reaction.

“Yeah. It’s fine.” Her eyes were closed tight, face deathly pale.

“Everything between my two thumbs is bruised.” 

“Yikes.” Her breathing continued to be labored, and Theron felt an uncontrollable tremor in her legs knock against his chest. 

“Eva, it’s over.” Carefully, he moved his palms to her waist to hold her steady, no longer just touching her with his thumbs. “He missed. He’s dead. There’s nothing to panic about.” Theron looked up at her, worriedly. Eva’s customary emotional lockdown seemed to be out on a smoke break; it was both unsettling and reassuring to see her raw reaction to something for an extended duration, rather than just flashes of temper.

She nodded. Her hands closed firmly over his shoulders, and even through the armor, he could feel her grasping. “Thanks. It’s more like after-the-fact stage fright. Some people get scared before they do things, like kill a guy on live holo. I just go and do it, then I lose my cool afterwards.” She looked down at him, apologetically.

Theron wasn’t sure who was in the more vulnerable position. He had her pinned to a wall with his hands up her shirt. She had him on one knee, her hands making it impossible for him to pull away easily. And the way she was looking at him, as if he was the one stable thing in the universe… This could have been a lot more fun, in a different context. 

Gods, now he was thinking like the smuggler and her crew. They were a corrupting force. 

Eva seemed to become aware that she had a deathgrip on his shoulders and she let go. Her hands, however, had no destination, and he could see them shake as she held them in front of her. 

Something to distract her. “If you need something to do with your hands, can you fix my hair while you’re up there?” 

That sounded so stupid, but she let out a nervous, genuine laugh. Her eyes were still troubled. 

Theron kept eye contact as he tried to reassure her. “You confirmed it before you did it. You got the right guy. Everyone knows it. You just got the wind knocked out of you.” She nodded, breathing still irregular. Theron hesitated, then asked, “Think loosening the beskar vest would help? You got it cinched in there.” It was supposed to be worn that way for best effect, but at this point, she needed to breathe unfettered. 

Eva nodded again, speech not coming easily.

Theron broke the gaze and carefully went to work at loosening the beskar vest straps on her right side. Not long after he started, he was surprised to feel her hands…

Doing exactly what he had suggested. Her hands ran through his hair, attempting to recreate the spikes that the helmet had flattened. He didn’t jump or lurch. It felt… nice. Really nice. Beyond his barber, Theron couldn’t remember the last time someone had touched him like that. 

He did not dawdle, as tempting as it was. Hands gently set on her sides, he made a quiet request. “Deep breath.” Eva did as asked. He did not look up at her. “Another.”

“Another.”

“Another.”

“Another.”

Whether she knew it or not, Jedi breathing exercises were exceedingly useful in situations like this.

“Another.”

“Another.”

Granted, he couldn’t quite sink into a meditation at the moment, given the presence of her hands in his hair – too much pleasant distraction. “You better?”

“Yeah.”

Theron withdrew his hands from her and began to button up the shirt and waistcoat. As he was finishing the last button, he felt her hands migrate down from his hair. He looked up at her, puzzled, as her fingertips barely ran over his implants and the dark lines on his skin around them. “Do they hurt?”

“No.” She was all curiosity now that the crisis had passed. Theron didn’t mind; it was better than the alternative. “They only hurt if I get myself into trouble – they’ll short out if I get zapped. Or if I get really cold. It’s like brain freeze, literally.” He smiled up at her.

Eva’s long fingers traced around them for a moment more. “The lights are out. They’re cold.” He could see her thinking back to how they had appeared previously. 

“I…haven’t been using them.” Eva’s mouth silently opened slightly in surprise, and her hands stilled. Theron stared up at her, now defiant. “You didn’t know what ‘a man like me’ was. You catching on now?”

Eva closed her mouth, and there was an almost imperceptible nod. Her fingertips ran over the cool implants again as she contemplated him. He caught himself looking at the cupid’s bow of her lips. 

This _really_ could have been a lot more fun, in a different context. 

Enough.

His hand caught hers, not harshly, and removed it from his person. Business first. She seemed more than a little disappointed, but she did not press the issue. Theron got up from his knee as Eva reached inside her coat pocket. She pulled out a circular compact and gently clicked it open. “How’d I do?”

Theron’s reflection appeared in the mirror. He appraised his hair. “Not bad. But I have to get back into the tin can if we’re going to see Rogun.”

“And ruin my hard work. I see how it is,” Eva said, with no force behind the jest. She slowly rebuttoned her collar and re-tied her ascot. Theron quietly put the helmet back on and re-secured the breathing apparatus. She swooped down to grab her hat and pinned it back on as he pulled on his gloves. Eva moved to pick up his rifle, holding it for him until he was ready to take it.

They walked down the hallway together, side by side, to Rogun’s office. 


	7. All Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A means to test the extent of Ivory's betrayal and Pub-Imp interest in the smuggler is developed. It's not pleasant.

Rogun had five datapads up and two mainframes running in his office by the time they arrived. His head snapped up to see Eva enter the room. “You’re not dead?”

“Wind knocked out of me and bruised from my ribs to my hips, but no, not dead. I know, it was so close to your birthday, and it would have been the perfect present,” Eva shrugged apologetically.

Rogun scoffed. “My workload just doubled now that Ivory’s dead. I didn’t want it to triple. Now I’ll cop to needing a secretary. Think Alilia would be game?”

Eva eyed him warily. “Like she needs to be second fiddle to someone. Make her a better offer than whatever she has, make it so it’s close to you, and don’t be a moron. You’ll win. Consider this my approval.” 

Rogun stared at her, then nodded. 

“You hack into Ivory’s personal files yet? I can get this guy -- name’s Theron -- to slice in if you need the help.” Eva used her thumb to point at the new guy, who now apparently had earned his name.

Rogun shrugged. “If we want to speed it up, sure. I can do it myself -- I could write the textbook on slicing, kid. Also, remember I’m the guy who set up the systems here on Port Nowhere – I am the ultimate sys admin. I didn’t read everyone’s personal files out of respect and out of a desire not to be scarred for life by their erotic fiction. But yeah, if you want this to go quick and haze him at the same time, let him have it.” He slid a datapad across to her and waved Theron toward one of the mainframes. 

“You need to fix the security cam code hole,” Eva commented.

“Nice job on the that, by the way. Everyone on the whole damn station saw you blow him away.”

“Anyone come crawling yet?”

Rogun shook his head. “As I said, I think he was on his own in this whole thing here. I don’t have anything sent via Holonet that says otherwise.” 

Eva started to paw through the datapad, eyes scanning as she spoke. “Still think it was a good idea? To do it in public?”

Rogun gave her a nudge with his elbow. “Port Nowhere is not a bastion of feminism. The fact that you snuffed him out probably was a good reminder of who’s the boss. Especially for the guys that aren’t enthusiastic about the Voidhound being a woman.”

“And for those that were ok with me before?”

“Great material for their left hand on a Tuesday night. God damn it.” Rogun brought up his wrist to access his account again. Theron couldn’t help but shake his head and grin behind his helmet. It was funny, but it became downright hilarious as Rogun attempted to self-censor. “Listen, joking aside – especially since it’s costing me money -- most of the Port’s people are behind you because you’re not a mindless exterminator and you take care of them. Ivory threatened that. You preserved the Port and its secrecy. They’ll either be indifferent since life isn’t changing, or they’ll approve of it. We’re good.”

The room went silent as the three of them hacked through Ivory’s files. Finally, Eva spoke as she finished decrypting and searching his inbox. “Was it just business, as he said? Was he just trying to get back in the game?”

Rogun swiped through a few files from his outboxes. “From what I can tell, yeah. Got tired of sitting on the bench, even though that’s the only thing we could offer him. Again, he was safe because you killed him three years ago. Hell, you’re safe now because you’ve already been pardoned once for murdering a man you didn’t.” 

“Yeah,” she said distractedly. 

Theron hadn’t thought of that. “Hey, Captain. Check this out. I think he was compiling a data package – it wasn’t done yet, but he was working on it.” Eva strode over to stand next to Theron, reading the screen. She gave a brief nod, and Theron skipped forward a few screens. “If you look here, he tried to acquire your prefix codes the last time you docked here a few months ago. He has older records of the _Thief_ here.”

“But nothing up to date. This was the last time I registered her. Alongside the nuns in front of me at the Division of Space Vehicle registry.” She allowed herself a small smile at that. “Yeah, there are key retrofit pieces missing from this record, which he would have heard about, but hearsay is nothing – he’d want the full load-out of the ship for his customers.” 

Theron pulled up another file. “He also tried to hack into your ship. He noted how upset he was that he couldn’t get any recent files – only pre-Voidhound era stuff.”

Rogun raised his head from his screen. “So that’s when you started being a paper freak. I thought it was long-term thing.”

Eva read over Ivory’s notes. “I always kept paper back-ups of financial transactions, but going totally analog was a new venture. Can’t hack paper. I do keep a digital captain’s log, but that requires highly personal information to get into.”

Theron’s brain remembered the file box and the pile of folders as he entered on the ship. Aha. Out-of-place items were no longer out of place. “Yeah, he didn’t get into your logs. He tried, but couldn’t. Apparently remote access from anywhere outside the ship requires a vial of blood.” Pause. “Ok then.”

Rogun made a face. “Sounds like something out of a trashy sky pirates novel.”

“Probably was. Dad had a hell of a sense of humor.” Eva looked over the files. “He knew I was coming today…” She hit her wrist comm. “Everyone good?”

“You ok, Cap?” Corso whispered. “I was all ready to swing down from my perch, but Bowie told me you had this. He was right, but I wanted to.”

“Glad you didn’t. Bowie, Akaavi, anything interesting on the ship?”

“No, Captain. Nobody has come by. It’s almost time for lunch so I anticipate a change of the guard,” replied Akkavi.

“It’s still morning. Stars preserve my poor battered liver. Risha, Guss, anything?”

“Good show, would watch again,” Guss answered.

Risha agreed. “Casino service was great before. Now the white jackets are out. I did tell them I was your best friend for life, though, and everything is on your tab.” 

“Great. Give us about a half hour. We’ll reconvene for lunch. Captain out.” Eva cut the wrist comm. “Ivory probably planned on slicing into the ship after we had our meeting, since lunch at the casino is a thing for the crew. No worries about that now though.”

Theron tapped a few buttons. “He did get into your flight computers and star map – did not edit anything, but he could figure out where you were. Last access from him was about two weeks ago.”

“Tython and Korriban were on there. He probably connected the dots between the transfer to where I was to the galactic news.” Eva thought about it for a moment. “Yeah, he saw the opportunity. Nothing personal.” That seemed to give her some peace of mind.

Rogun pulled his own datapad and tapped it a few times. “I’m sending you the last two months of his message list. Nothing out to Sith space – he knows I would have been on that like -- .” He stopped. Thought about it. “I would have caught that quickly, and you wouldn’t be worrying your pretty little head about betrayal.” 

Eva concentrated on the data in front of her, brow creased. “So he only communicated directly to the Republic government over the last two weeks.” 

Rogun tapped a few more times. “Uh. Not necessarily. I didn’t catch his solicitations because it was bounced through a few different messaging centers in Pub space, not directly related to the government. They’re in a grey legal area. See those lights?” 

Eva peered over the data. She made an affirmative grunt. Rogun cleared his throat. “Here’s where it gets scary. Like the bad old days scary.” Another few taps. “Those are message redirection centers that he didn’t use this time around because they were beyond our range on Port Nowhere. If he’d lived longer, he might have taken advantage of them and sent a message to Sith Space.”

Eva’s mouth formed a firm straight line as she stared at Rogun. He continued, “But here’s a kicker: Pub government always has access to these redirection stations that are not official, regardless of range. Always.”

Eva appeared to read between the lines, and her face fell. She turned away from Rogun and Theron to face the wall. “Kark. Kark. Kark!” She stopped herself from spiking the datapad on the floor. She blindly gestured at Theron. “Explain to the new guy. He won’t understand yet. He wasn’t around for the Darmas thing.”

“You trust him?” Rogun asked. “You did most of the interrogating.”

Eva fumed at the wall. “He’s kept his mouth shut so far, and he saw what happened to Ivory. Might as well.” 

Theron tilted his helmet to give his attention to Rogun. The Chagrian explained, “Basically, Ivory could have sent something to the Sith Empire if it went through Republic government. Given the fact your Captain is thinking that some Pubs and Sith are in bed together, it’s possible that Ivory sent an encrypted side-car message to one or both of the Pub recipients, asking them to send their Pub intel on your boss to the Sith Empire. The people in PubSec could have shared that intel without anyone seeing it through the redirection centers they have access to. Then, if they hooked up with Ivory officially, he would have been able to disseminate Port Nowhere intel on the Voidhound to both of them.”

“That’s how Darmas Pollaran, the Imp double agent, did his thing,” Eva cut in in. “If he was too far from his own Imp transmitters, he sent it through Senator Dodonna, his partner in the Pub, which was riskier but just as effective, because she bounced the information through these messaging centers, making her untraceable.” Eva turned back around, calmer. “Ivory would have been very useful for any conspiratorial Pubs and Imps. Dirt would have been found on me and probably on the SIS guy I’m working with.” Theron. “Now that he’s out of the game, I wonder how much attention the Imps are paying me anyway.” 

Rogun scanned his data on his pad. “I don’t have any info to suggest that anyone in the last three months has said anything, other than Ivory shopping an offer.”

Eva drummed her fingers on Rogun’s desk for about ten seconds as an idea percolated. She stopped and pointed at Rogun. “The Makeb plan. We normally just do it, no conversation with the local runners. Why don’t we have a conversation this time?” 

Rogun gaped at her. “You sure you want to run something that dark? I though you were just setting Ivory up.”

“I was. I’m still not sure if I want to do it, because it’s pretty fucked up,” Eva said candidly. “I would be trading the most powerful fuel in the galaxy for homicide and hard drugs, with the stated goal of making all my customers dead. That’s not typical smuggler operations.” She took Rogun’s datapad from him and input a few commands. From Theron’s vantage point, it started running financial simulations. “But that’s the sort of game that, if Imp intel wants me, they’d be chattering about it endlessly, and Pub intel would pick up on it. My guy could listen for it.”

Rogun looked as if he’d eaten something sour. “So don’t do the plan, but talk about doing it on Empire frequencies. See if anyone takes the bait?” 

Eva replied, “Yeah. If a rumor planted in the Empire gets back to the Republic in a short period of time, then we might prove a conspiracy.” A few beats of silence. “Rogun, you think the plan would actually work?” She offered him the completed financial sims.

Rogun raised his eyebrows at her, then looked down at the datapad. “Do you have any belief in an afterlife? It’s pretty awful.” Rogun paused, his eyes catching the details on the simulation. “But it is killing Imps without sacrificing good Republic soldier lives,” he admitted.

“And it’s their own choices. We’re just supplying the means.”

Eva and Rogun stared at each other as they both worked the plan through their heads. Rogun eventually began to cackle, slowly and deliberately. Eva’s devilish grin came on gradually, building even as Rogun gave into amusement. Theron thought the best description for this expression was “up to no good and loving every second of it.” He had to look away and get back to slicing – she was distracting. Finally, he heard her speak. “I’d say we talk about it as a tester for 2 or 3 months. Then, once we know whether we’re being looked at, we do it.” 

Rogun shook her hand firmly. “I’ll make it happen, boss.” 

Eva clapped her hands together. “Right. Let’s finish this up and get to lunch.” 


	8. Communion, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eva and Theron discuss the aftermath of Port Nowhere over an early morning caf. This quickly escalates into a meeting of minds, which they both quite enjoy. They establish mutual understanding and what they want in the universe.

The ship was quiet. The rest of business at Port Nowhere had gone uneventfully, including the (very expensive but also elaborate) lunch spread. Rather than make him watch them eat, poor Theron and his helmet were sent back to the ship with a very extensive carry-out bag so he could eat on the ship in private. With his arrival, Bowdaar and Akaavi were sprung from guard duty. Eva had made sure to also stash an extra bottle of Corellian whiskey so she could pass it to Theron on his way out. He’d put up with their nonsense pretty well for someone outside of smug life. 

Lunch had carried on for ages, as did some casual gaming at the casino, so dinner was skipped, the crew picking at their leftovers throughout the evening. Eva soon barricaded herself in her office with new data acquired from Port Nowhere, and she worked until the numbers started to dance across the page. 

Her dreams were restless. Ivory’s last moments ran through her mind again and again, but this time, he did strike true. She didn’t wear the beskar vest. Or he struck to her leg, where she bled out in seconds. Or he got Rogun instead, knowing how it hurt her. The Chagrian had become her friend, despite their precarious beginnings. And now he was involved with another friend. The world of a smuggler was very large, but the ties were tight. 

Some dreams had the crowd surging upon her, as they did on Corellia. She’d lost their trust, their love, and their respect, and now she’d lose her life, taking Rogun and Theron with her.

After a few hours of uneasy sleep, just enough to make the numbers stop their waltz, Eva laid in her bed in her quarters and stared at the chrono. She forced herself to stay in until an early but reasonable hour. As the chrono turned to the sixth hour, Eva rose and grabbed a robe, shrugging it on over her pajamas. After a quick visit to the head and a washing of her face, she went to her vanity, brushed out her hair, and applied her Dermaplast – most of the time, it was the only thing she applied to her face when she wasn’t working as the Voidhound. Then she slipped into the galley to start the morning caf. 

Many times, she would encounter Bowdaar here, and they’d speak in the calm before the chaos of the rest of the crew woke up. This morning, no such luck. Her eyes traced the lines of the tiles and rivets in the galley as she waited for the brew to finish, then she poured herself a mug and started to head back to her office. Then she remembered that she’d left files out in the lounge area, since she was going to need them after the Port Nowhere visit. 

Eva abruptly changed course and began to make her way toward the lounge. Almost too late, she realized Theron Shan was kneeling in a meditative pose on her lounge floor in the dark, the light from the galley casting a limited glow across the room. She waffled about it, then plunged forward. Hopefully she could be quiet enough to grab the file and go.

All it took was a single step, and Theron’s olive-gold eyes opened. He wore a tranquil expression as he came out of his trance, re-calibrating himself to where he was. 

“Sorry. You go back to what you were doing,” her apology came immediately. As she drew nearer to him (and her desired folder), she realized he wasn’t wearing his jacket or his gun belt Or even his boots – he was barefoot. He wore a short sleeve shirt and slacks – that was it. This was shockingly casual compared to how he had carried himself to this point. 

Eva belatedly realized she was also “shockingly casual” – pajamas and a robe were not what she considered “dressed for the day.” 

Eh. He’d already partly undressed her and saw her in a vulnerable state. There was no point in shame or false modesty. Besides, he’d done his hair. He wasn’t completely naked.

“No, I apologize – I’m using your lounge as meditation space. Not exactly low traffic.” Theron rose to his feet. His eyes lit up as he saw her mug. “That caf?”

Eva snickered at his unchecked joy as she offered the mug to him. “I’ll get another.” Theron flashed her a big smile as he greedily took the mug and sat down at the main table. 

She liked his smile. Especially when she was the cause of it. Eva retrieved her file before ducking back into the galley for another mug.

Shortly thereafter, she joined him at the table, tucking her robe in behind her as she sat down. “Did I wake you?”

Theron shook his head. “I’m a light sleeper– smell of caf filtered into medbay, and I was up.” He looked over at the chrono then back at her. “You up this early, usually?”

Eva wrapped her hands around her mug, letting the steam flow up into her face. “Not usually. Dreams about what could have gone wrong yesterday.” 

“But it didn’t,” Theron gently reminded her. 

“It didn’t,” Eva agreed. She contemplated the swirling mist in her cup for a moment before looking across the table at his face. Theron’s implants were still dark, inactive. “Thank you for keeping your promise.”

He followed her line of vision. “It was a promise.” The reply was simple. Theron’s coffee approached drinking temperature, and he had his first taste of it. It was more than acceptable, based upon the pleased expression that set in. “I was tempted more than once to break that promise, though.”

Eva pressed her lips together, holding her words in her mouth before speaking. “I understand. What you do takes a lot of self-control. But you’re good at it.”

Theron gave a half-shrug. “I just tagged along.”

“Nobody noticed you yesterday, which I think is the gold standard for spying.”

Theron allowed a small smile at that. “True.” He took another sip of his coffee. “I’ll be honest. I was not happy about the Ivory situation.”

Eva felt a small twinge, and she steeled herself for a defense. It was a thing she had done to survive. She wasn’t going to apologize for --

“But I was a lot less hesitant about your Makeb plan than even you were.” Theron leaned back in his seat, hand still on his coffee mug. “Given that I’m a spy, I think I understand something about doing ugly things to get ahead. To ensure survival. The Makeb thing would be a black ops dream, if SIS had it.”

Eva thought Theron had dropped a key word from that sentence at the last second, given the slight blush that surfaced at the tops of his cheeks. But maybe the caf was still too hot. Eva felt her brow rise slightly. “You are an agent of the Republic. You’d do a lot for her.” 

Theron took a breath inward and nodded solemnly. “Yes. And as you said, the Imps would make their own choices. Those choices would just happen to destroy them.” With those words, clouds crossed Theron’s face, his brow creased, and his mouth pulled downward. “So do _you_ think the Republic is so corrupt, it will destroy itself?” He looked contemplative. 

Eva’s mind went back to the conversation in the bar with Ivory. She replayed it in her head. Then she gazed at Theron, not with a harsh countenance. “If it continues to make the choices it does.” Theron’s eyes dropped back to his caf. 

Eva shifted her weight on the bench. She really didn’t want to have this conversation before or during her first caf, but it looked like it had to happen. And it was best done before the rest of the asylum woke up. “Are you familiar with the balance of power?” Eva checked her caf’s temperature and finally took a drink.

Theron’s eyes rose to meet hers again, an intelligent gleam in them. “Which one? The theory or the actor?” 

A full-fledged smile broke out over her face. “I like that you know that. A lot.” For a moment, Eva’s mind stopped. Oh, he was clever – he may have actually read a book once, unlike so many spacers. She stopped to take a long swig of caf to regain her composure. Her tablemate was amused, which made him smile, which derailed her further. She drained half of her entire cup of caf to buy time.

It had been awhile, hadn’t it. 

Eva held her mug in her hands, close to her chest as she spoke. “The actor. Let the two great powers squabble – it’s a tug of war between two juggernauts. I can’t win against either. I and my fleet remain neutral but interested parties. But, if one of the great powers threatens to actually quash the other – then I would intervene, particularly if it’s the side that shares my ideals.”

Theron considered this, his right index finger tracing the rim of his mug. “Why not just ally outright with the side that agrees?”

“They each have their flaws. I also hold the unpopular opinion that the Republic and the Empire shouldn’t be the only powers that matter in the galaxy.” Eva put her caf down, carefully. 

“A proportionate balance of power rather than a binary.” Theron’s finger ceased its perambulation around the rim of the coffee mug. “Interesting.” 

Eva crossed her legs under the table. “I want to have enough power to tilt the scales in the way that best serves me and mine. I don’t mind if others do, too.”

“Such as the Hutts?” Theron asked.

Eva contorted her face. Apparently, the face itself, combined with the shock of her acting like a child over the mention of the Hutts, caused Theron to laugh out loud, to the point he covered his mouth with a hand so as not to wake the rest of the ship. “Ok, I mind if _they_ do,” she confessed as she inspected how much caf was left in her cup and took another sip, as if trying to wash a foul taste out of her mouth.

Theron recovered himself sufficiently to speak again. “I’m sorry. How you are -- it’s such a jarring difference from how you are when you work. I’ve taken to calling your Voidhound persona ‘the Dark Lady,’ he said in an ominous tone, like a horror holo announcer. That made her smile, a little. “She wouldn’t make faces like that, wouldn’t make me laugh. This,” he gestured to her nearly bare face, wrapped in an old bathrobe and soft well-loved pajamas, “—this isn’t the Dark Lady.” 

“No, I’m not a femme fatale in lingerie or a silk robe that would be used to tempt overly professional spies. Sorry to disappoint,” Eva replied airily, but he cut in quickly, almost alarmed.

“No, no, it’s not disappointing – I like it,” Theron asserted. He caught himself. “I mean, I like you when you’re not on the job.” Eva felt some part of her giggle, buried deep inside. Part of it was being flattered, the other part was watching Theron continued to try to regain his footing in the conversation. Her comments were likely inspiring all sorts of images right now. “I mean, it’s impressive when you are her – it’s just that the way you are now is just _so far_ from the Dark Lady character. Um. I like it,” he finished haplessly, silently begging her not to take anything the wrong way. 

Eva decided to be merciful. His soulful eyes were just negating any will she had to be unkind, even as a jest. “‘The Dark Lady,’ as you call her, is a part of me, but she’s definitely extensively stage-managed – everything is planned with her. She’s exhausting. But her ability to intimidate and control others keeps me safe. It keeps the crew safe. I do have to isolate in order to detox from her – she has no time for games or friends.” 

“Which is why you disappeared last night after the ship left the Port. The crew acted as if nothing happened.”

“I would have been poor company. But she does help me get the paperwork done.” 

Before Eva could stop him, Theron plucked the long-forgotten folder off the table. “Speaking of which…” he drawled as he opened the folder. “Hmm. Where’d you find this?”

Eva reached out to try to take it back from him, but he turned away from her, to the point that he had a foot on the floor and a knee wedged into the bench, his back fully to her. Eva was not going to fight him for it, as she might have done when she was younger; she took the strategic opportunity to look at his assets. With her eyes on him, she answered, “I got curious over who the red guy was at Tython. He was pretty easy to find – he’s a member of the Dark Council.”

“Darth Arkous. That’s a name I know,” Theron mused. “Came up recently – really recently. Death of predecessor – based on your Makeb plan, you know how promotions work in the Sith Empire.”

“Uh huh.” Eva picked up her caf and finished it as he shifted his stance. Nice view. The trousers were very well-tailored. “That said, because he’s a new guy, not a lot is public about him.” Eva redirected her eyes up to the back of his head, anticipating he would eventually turn around. “Think you can help with that?”

Theron turned his head. “I think I can,” he answered. He wore what Eva considered to be knowing smile….

Oh, he’d done that deliberately in full hope of what she had just done. Eva’s opinion of Theron Shan rose by the second. Theron closed the folder and handed it back to her. Eva accepted it. “I need a refill.” She began to get up to go.

Before she could grab her mug, Theron surprised her (and possibly himself) by reaching out with his left hand to touch her right arm. She looked at him, questioning, but then saw his right hand grab his own mug and carefully pour some of his caf into her empty mug, a small amount of steam still rising. “One more thing,” he said, quietly. Eva sat back down. 

That was an intimate gesture. Sharing coffee. Touching her arm. What had happened to the professional spy?

Theron took his seat on his side of the table. Eva’s eye caught the ripple of lean muscle as he leaned his forearms on the table. “What would move the balance?” His eyes were intense. 

The answer mattered.

Eva tried to look for the tiny wisps of steam from his caf, which now resided in her cup. They were there, but they were playing coy. The time for her to be that way was over, at least in this conversation. “I have a Wookiee, a Zabrak, and a Mon Calamari on my crew. I won’t tolerate anything that threatens their personhood. That includes Hutts.” Inhale through the nose, exhale through the nose. “Corso wants a future where he lives on a farm with his children in peace. I don’t want a constant state of war or threatened conquest.” A swallow of caf, a gentle rotation of the cup. “Risha is an uncrowned queen. But she knows that there must be a little bit of chaos in the universe. Mostly because I’d insist on it, even if she did make me her viceroy on some beautiful colony. The ability to believe and say what one wishes without fear of persecution or prosecution.”

“Emancipation, stability, and civil liberties – sounds like the Galactic Constitution of the Republic.” Theron watched her carefully.

“That is what the Republic advertises,” Eva gently corrected him. “We both know there is space between the ideal and the reality. I’m willing to live outside the lines to get those things for me and mine.” 

Theron’s face revealed nothing of what he thought of that answer. He could wear a mask without the help of a helmet too. 

“What about you, Agent Theron Shan?” she asked. “Do you pursue the ideals, or are you bound to the Republic, as she is?” 

Theron wrapped his hand around his caf mug and drained it. “I will always fight for the virtues of the Republic and support their spread everywhere I go. Including within the Republic.”

“And if the Republic doesn’t live up to the ideals?”

At that question, Theron rose to his feet. “Out of caf – I’ll go get some more.” He grabbed his cup and took the first step toward the galley. 

Just as his escape looked certain, a large furry wall holding the hot caf pot blocked his path. “How about you sit down next to the pretty lady?” he said.

Eva translated, roughly, “He suggests you sit down. You are his guest.”

Bowdaar grumbled at her, “That’s not what I said.” Theron carefully lowered himself back to his seat, and Bowdaar neatly refilled his mug and Eva’s as well. 

She answered Bowdaar in Shyriiwook, “You’re laying it on thick. I appreciate the interception, though. And the caf.” 

Bowdaar gave her a gentle thump on the head before moving back toward the galley. “Don’t fall in love with Spike here until he keeps his yap shut about Port Nowhere – keep grilling him.” 

Theron’s eyes had bounced between the Wookiee and the smuggler. She was exceedingly pleased to see that the implants – his translators – still were off. Eva addressed him with a saccharine smile. “Wookiees do make the best wingmen. It’s why so many smugglers have one on staff.”

Theron raised his brow at her. “A wingman?”

Eva closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, she mindfully looked Theron Shan in those pretty olive-gold eyes. Enough flirting. Enough running. 

“Let’s be real. We’re having a ‘state of the relationship’ conversation, whether we want to call it that or not. We’re testing our boundaries, seeing where our partner lies. This---” Eva gestured between the two of them, “-- won’t work out unless we’re both honest.” She breathed in the steam of her caf. “So what’s your angle? Not just the hype.”

Theron met her gaze and held it. There was no war, no eye sex, no unsaid conversation, as there was on Carrick Station. It was a simple connection. She heard Theron’s words, but she all she could perceive were those eyes with the captivating color shift. “What you’ve seen is my life. Observe and fight. Interrogate and meditate. On the bad nights, I skip the meditation. It can be hard to focus due to noise. Bruises. Other distractions. But when I can meditate, it’s on the future. It’s always dawn somewhere. Some new day where it all works out.”

A pause. Then, in hushed tones, Theron spoke as if she were his lover in the bedroom rather than an uneasy ally in a starship lounge: “I swear that I’m a good man.”

Eva honestly had not heard that before. This was probably because most of the men she dealt with knew she was too wise to take that at face value. Theron knew she was wise. 

And for some reason… “I believe that, if nothing else,” she heard herself say. 

It was true. It disturbed her. And she never feared the truth. She had always viewed it as the ultimate liberator. 

The still of the early morning fell in around them. Her eyes did not want to part from his. The feeling was mutual, apparently. Theron’s voice was deep and cautious, trying not to break the spell. “Now what do we do about this?” 

“This” was ambiguous. It was the potential conspiracy. It was the partnership. It was the greater galaxy. It was the balance of power. It was the future. It was the two of them, together, in some other place and context.

But although “this” was not explicitly defined, Eva found a true answer. “Enjoy the moment. We may not have another quiet morning in good company with great caf for a long time.” 

Theron’s eyes softened, and she felt herself come down and away from the confrontation. Her eyes implored him to stay – enjoy the moment, as she had said.

They did, drinking their caf in companionable silence. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Theron's dialogue about his angle -- the future-- is drawn from the Lost Suns comic book. Specifically, it's from Theron's first frame in the series and from his last frame in the series. Canonically, Theron is an optimist; he believes in a better tomorrow. If that means he has to suffer for it today, he will do it. As Corso says in the smuggler story line, "Breaking the law has nothing to do with being a good man." I think that's one principle the smuggler and the spy can agree on. 
> 
> Eva lives wholly in the present. She'll do things for her crew because they have a vision of their futures. Theron's admission of a belief in the future will make her more willing to help him as well. However, Eva has no concept of a future for herself, unless it's fantastical, ridiculous, or abstract. She only sees as far ahead as the next part of her ship's restoration or the next big score. It's the joke that is not actually a joke: smugglers don't live very long, typically. And Eva wants to keep it that way -- why should she risk people who have a future? It's better to send out the person who has no future: herself. 
> 
> Thanks for reading. More extracurricular adventures soon.

**Author's Note:**

> sullustangin.tumblr.com


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